Le Comte de Chaos
by SpartanWarrior117
Summary: A century and fourteen days, that's how long humanity has stayed stagnant. Zeus once again rules Mount Olympus with an iron fist, and the rest of the gods are little more than subjects. But from parts unknown, a new ally comes in the form of the Count. All rights to Percy Jackson belong to Rick Riordan, rated M because I'm paranoid.


Love is a paradox.

It can drive great acts of kindness,

or grind the gears of war.

Love is _not_ patient. It can make one patient for a time but that makes it all the worse when the waiting has been in vain. Love is _not _kind, it merely forces one to _act_ kind. Love is envious and jealous above all others. To gain love one will vaunt himself. Love forces women and men to act unseemly and love seeks _only_ her own. For the sake of love one will be easily provoked. Love forces one to bear much, believe much, hope much and endure much. Love is cruel. To wield love is to wield absolute power because love compromises all. Love is the first of all emotions because all can be caused by or for the sake of love. In a sentence, love is anything _but_ loving.

But love can be an ally. Therefore, learning to love pain is not a hard step to take. It grants a whole new dimension to the concept of suffering because to love _is_ pain…

* * *

One hundred and fourteen years elapsed and forgotten, war raged across the face of the earth. The blood of mortals, monsters and demigods watered her with their blood.

* * *

Ares and Pallas Athena walked a demigod down the Olympian Road through Tartarus. The demigod's eyes darted two and fro, back and forth between his captors and all the horrors taking place around him. His face was stoic but his sea green eyes showed fear if one looked deep enough. He was ruthlessly shoved forward by the two patrons of war every time he stopped to take a breath. The trio came to a stop at a cliff overlooking a vast crevasse, in the distance far below a shadowy mansion could be seen, and even farther below _that_ the swirling darkness that was chaos came into view. The trio stared out over the darkness for a few moments in complete silence. Even the usual howls of monsters seemed to quiet down if only for a moment. Finally, Ares spoke into the brisk breeze. "This is the end of the line kid." The demigod made no answer before being unceremoniously shoved in by Athena. The two immortals turned around and started back the way they had come, gradually fading from Tartarus back into the world above while the demigod hurtled towards darkness and Chaos.

* * *

Current time begun, a lone huntress walked quietly through the woods. She held her bow at the ready. An arrow knocked, but the bow string slack. She drew her silvery parka closer as hot puffs of air signaled her breathing. Her prey had led her all the way from Oregon up into Alaska. An elder hellhound, her prey had evaded her at every turn. Now she was more wary, after all, it wasn't called _the land beyond the gods_ for nothing, she could already feel a lack of power and energy. Her senses weren't as heightened and as she looked around, brushing her brown hair out of her wide brown eyes, all of the wild things – the rocks, trees and underbrush – no longer made her feel safe, but gave her a sense of unease and dread.

About five minutes later, just enough time for her to calm her nerves, she lost the trail. She crouched down, trying to see if it was a change in terrain that had made the difference but no, the trail just… stopped. At that moment, she heard a low growl. If possible, she crouched down even lower and turned in a slow circle, arrow notched and bow at the ready. She heard the growl again and two glowing red eyes came into view. Slowly, the dog stalked out of the woods into the clearing. It was huge. From foot to shoulder alone it stood almost six feet tall and from tail to snout was half again as long. It's charcoal black fur was rough but the limbs beneath were still lithe and muscular, around its mouth the fur was matted as though it was perpetually caked with the blood of its most recent kill.

The beast regarded her with eyes that bespoke years of intelligence. Hundreds of years of instinct handed down through its genes. This half-breed foul-smell would only be one of many that the hellhound had mauled and later eaten. Giving no warning the hellhound pounced on the poor girl and she was so frightened that she missed her shot. Luckily, months of training with the rest of her sisters had burned into her muscles the instincts of survival and she quickly rolled out of the way. The hound landed behind her and began swiftly running at her again. She notched a second arrow, shot, and what luck! The arrow lodged itself into the monsters hind leg. But to her horror, the beast kept coming. She waited until the mutt was close and dove out of the way at the last second with her hunting knives out. She missed her swing, but the hellhound managed to take a swipe at her and its claws drew long red ribbons of blood from her thigh, slicing through soft skin and hard muscle alike. The huntress readied herself for another bout but the wolf gave her no time to recover. She attempted a double overhanded strike but the hound head-butted her and sent her and her knives flying in different directions.

The girl watched with fear as the hellhound knocked both of her knives even farther away. This was the _end_. The family she had known for only a few months was about to be taken from her. However, she resolved herself to meet her death head on and look it in the eye. That thought soon changed when the hellhound let out a bark and pounced. She closed her eyes as tight as she could as if it could stall the inevitable pain. But when no pain came, she opened her eyes. What she saw made them widen in shock. The hellhound's great jaws were almost completely closed around her neck, missing the pale skin by mere millimeters. A thin gleaming blade protruded from the beast's chest and she could hear the animal making a keening noise. With a ruffle of the fur and the crackle of dead leaves, the beast rolled over and she got a good look at her savior. She looked up the long, thin, bloodied blade of what she assumed to be a rapier and then moved on to the gloved hand. She went up the arm of the jacket, pausing to study the old-fashioned overcoat that hung from his shoulders. The man - for it was obviously a man – held a cane in his other hand. Both arms were beneath the overcoat making it look more like a cloak. Her eyes were drawn to the red satin necktie and then up to his face. She could see the dark skin around his mouth but a mask hid the upper portion of his face and in the shadows cast by the woods his eyes looked like black voids. He spoke in a deep melodious voice "Are you alright child?" The girl made no answer and so the man's head turned, examining her. When he saw her leg he materialized a ball of fire in his hand and held it over the wound for a moment. He spoke again. "I have staunched the bleeding young one but you will still need proper medical attention."

The girl nodded mutely, already searching through her pack for something with which to signal the rest of her sisters.

The hellhound finally started to slowly dissolve, golden flecks of dust rising on the breeze. The masked man turned to leave and opened a portal with which to do so when the girl cried out "Wait!"

The man stopped and turned around saying nothing.

"Who shall I tell them saved me?" The girl asked with genuine curiosity.

"Tell them…" The man turned his head back to the portal and paused. Whether for dramatic effect or to find the right answer none could tell.

"Tell them," he said, golden flecks of dust floating and swirling in the air giving the scene a sense of ethereal beauty, "...that you were saved by the _Count._"


End file.
